


Pretty as a Picture

by colazitron



Series: 2018 December Holiday Fic Countdown [12]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 13:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16975812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Chris doesn't really expect to see penetrator Chris again, much less be his friend. Or more?





	Pretty as a Picture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imminentinertia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imminentinertia/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the characters in here or their creators. I made this all up. For fun.
> 
>  **A/N:** for Immy <3

To say that Chris was surprised to see Penetrator Chris of all people in her introductory fashion design class at SoFI would be a bit of an understatement. She didn't even know he was back in Oslo, but then again, she also didn't really have much reason to know. Sure, Vilde might have kept her ear close to the gossip grapevine somehow – it was weird how that girl always knew everything about everyone – but even she hadn't mentioned anything about him being back, never mind him being enrolled at the same school as them.

Chris remembers the small wave of gossip when he dropped out of business school after his first year, the rumours about being cut off from daddy's wealth and then – nothing. He'd vanished off the face of the Earth. Or from Oslo, at least.

As far as Chris knows Eva had received a few messages – for Christmas, and New Year's, and her birthday. Chris doesn't think she'll ever get the weird attachment those two have, but she doesn't really care about that very much either. He's always been good to Eva, and as far as she's concerned that's all she needs to know.

Still. He's undeniably there. And the only seat left is next to him. Because of course it is.

Chris shrugs and makes her way over. Why not. He'd always been fun and she hasn't actually spoken to him in well over a year.

“Chris,” he grins at her when he looks up and recognises her.

She grins back.

“Chris.”

The girl sitting on his other side looks a little confused, and Chris and she catch each others' eyes and laugh quietly.

“Good to see you,” Chris says, when Chris has sat down and arranged all of her things. “Nice to have a friendly face around.”

Chris frames her face with her hands and grins, then holds her hand out for a fistbump that he gives gladly.

“Yours isn't so bad either, I guess.”

  


Vilde is about as excited as Chris thought she would be, and even a little flustered when she drags Chris along to lunch with her. Chris gamely answers all of her questions though, regaling them with tales of the year he took off to travel, apparently, drifting more or less aimlessly from work-placement to work-placement. By the end of lunch, Vilde has calmed down again and they're all chatting amiably. It takes a little more than a pretty boy a bit older than her to really impress Vilde these days.

  


Chris doesn't really know how it happens, but somehow, between classes and shared lunches and a lot of laughing together, by the time Vilde suggests they add a new yearly tradition of a secret Santa gift exchange – read, they're going to participate or rue the day they decided to dampen her seasonal spirit – Chris is firmly entrenched in their group. He's Chris' new friend, Eva's old friend, their old acquaintance, and slotted right into their little ragtag group. So of course he's included.

When they draw names, Chris first frowns down at her paper because she's drawn her own name, but then realises that's not her handwriting.

“I got myse--- oh. No, sorry, it's fine,” Chris says.

Vilde sighs a disappointed sigh and puts her hand on her hip.

“Now we have to draw again, no one's supposed to know who we all got!”

“No, no, it's fine, please. It's only me, and I have the perfect gift,” Chris says. “Unless Chris minds?”

All eyes turn to Chris, Chris' own slightly wider and rounder than they usually would be, his lower lip jutted out in a bit of a pout.

He's really not playing fair. Not that Chris _wants_ a do-over but if she did, it's not like she could say that now he's looked like she'd be personally kicking him if she said so.

“No, no, that's fine.”

C hris grins at her and winks. She rolls her eyes, but grins back.

  


It's not a small amount of pressure, knowing that Chris already has “the perfect gift” for her. It sends her on more than one frantic shopping trip, scouring stores and online market places because if there's a perfect gift for her, then surely there's a perfect gift for him too, right? It's just a matter of finding it.

It feels a bit like finding a needle in a haystack though, only with the added bonus that Chris isn't even really sure she's looking for a needle. Maybe it's a very small pencil. Or a match stick. Or something else entirely! The problem is that Chris isn't sure what she's looking for. This seems like a “you'll know it when you see it” type situation, but she can't look _everywhere_. There are physical (and financial) limitations to Chris' search.

She's a little glad, at least, that she knows Chris' gift for her can't be really all that expensive either, now that he's moved out and living off his own money and his parents don't fill his bank account anymore. She feels bad for feeling good about that, but what would she do if he gave her, like, a diamond-studded necklace. And all she can come up with is some – admittedly hilarious – novelty tree decorations.

No. Diamond necklace or not, those won't do. They're not perfect.

The answer comes to her in a class, jotting something down about lines and function and hearing Chris huff next to her as he frowns at the projection.

She grins to herself and turns back to the front.

“You get this?” he asks quietly.

She shoots him a short look and a smile, nods at him.

He sighs.

She bumps his elbow with hers and pulls a face and he smiles back.

  


When they all come back together to exchange gifts, he gives her two rolls of brightly-coloured, gorgeously-patterned, hand-woven fabric. There's the appropriate ooh-ing and aah-ing from all the others because even amateurs can tell that these fabrics are beautiful.

Chris is speechless.

“But. You brought these back from South America,” she says.

He'd showed them off so proudly that one time they met at his place. The women of the small town he'd lived in made them and he'd saved all the money he could to buy as much of it as he could afford when he left.

“Are you sure?”

Chris laughs.

“Yes, of course I'm sure.”

It really is the perfect gift. Her own kind of pales in comparison, and she can feel herself blush as he grabs for the envelope with his name on from the pile of presents.

Everyone laughs as they realise they picked each others' names, and Chris watches quietly while he flips the envelope open and reads the card she put inside.

“What is it?” “What did you get?” “Come on, read it out loud!”

Everyone else is clamoring to unravel the mystery of the smallest gift on the pile, and Chris supposes if nothing else, this experiment of Vilde's has turned out to be a total success.

Chris gets to the end of her card then looks up to grin at her.

“So, basically your gift to me is a date with you?” he asks.

He's grinning, eyes twinkling full of mischief, obviously teasing. Vilde makes a scandalised noise while Eva gives her a thumbs-up. The rest of them just laugh.

Chris feels herself go even redder, heart rate going like a fucking race horse.

“What? No. Of course n-- no!”

“No, no, no, I'd be honoured if you'd deign to lower yourself like that!”

Chris laughs too, reaching over Vilde and Sana sat between them to grab her shoulder and give her a friendly shake.

“I'm only teasing,” he says.

He's still grinning.

She tries to grin back.

  


The party winds down eventually, the couples begging off first and the rest of them not quite sure if they want to get much drunker than they already are. When Chris finally gives in to the headache that's started to bloom behind her temples a few hours ago and announces she'll leave, Chris follows suit.

They're quiet as they walk to the tram, until he bumps his shoulder into hers gently.

“Hey,” he says.

She bumps him back.

“Hey, yourself.”

The bag with his gift dangles from her hand, and she still can't quite believe that he did that.

“I didn't mean to make fun of you or anything like that, earlier,” he says. “With the whole date thing.”

She waves him off.

“No, I get it. It's fine.”

They're quiet for a bit longer. He sniffs against his runny nose, and then sighs.

“No, but see. The thing is. I really would be honoured. If you, er, wanted to go on a date with me.”

Chris stops cold in her tracks, staring at him with what she can only assume is a dumb, fish-like expression.

He stops too, turns, and smiles at her sheepishly, offering a small shrug.

“I really like you, Chris.”

Heat blooms in her belly like spring, making her giddy and pushing a smile onto her face that she has absolutely no control over. She never thought-- she never _let_ herself think--

But he's not cruel. If he's saying this, he means it.

“Then yes. I am gifting you a date.”

“Really?” he asks, like somehow he – pretty as a picture, funny, kind – is surprised that she'd want to go out with him.

“Really,” she says, still beaming at him.

He beams back.

  


**The End**


End file.
